


One Night in Rachamps

by Renne



Series: Cheap & Easy OT3 [2]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: First Time, M/M, Military, Standalone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:39:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renne/pseuds/Renne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Speirs stumbled a little Lipton made a soft, almost chiding noise – it was true, Speirs thought tiredly, he was like a mother hen to all of them, and the new CO wasn't excused – and slipped in easily under Speirs' arm to steady him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night in Rachamps

**Author's Note:**

> Also archived on livejournal [here](http://futureperfect.livejournal.com/814495.html).

Speirs knew he didn't have to return to the men at the convent after he'd taken his report up to Battalion HQ.

They'd offered him a bed with clean sheets there and he should have stayed and enjoyed their hospitality, but he knew that at this early stage as CO of Easy Company what he really needed to do was show the men that _he_ cared enough to be there. Enough that they all were scared of him or thought he was a trigger happy maniac, he had to earn their respect and to do that he needed to be there for them in ways that Dike had not, could not and would not be.

Not that that was hard of course. It would have been nigh on impossible for Speirs to be actively worse than Norman Dike had been for Easy, short of choking on a lead sandwich. And that kind of behaviour was so far from what kind of a man Speirs was. That behaviour wasn't being a man to start with.

When he arrived back at the convent, it was mostly quiet. Rachamps was off the line, so no Easy Company sentry stood watch – he wasn't about to begrudge them this one night to sleep through – except... except when he got closer to the building he noticed that there was someone seated outside, legs stretched out in front, arms folded and chin resting on their chest.

The angle of the shaded lamplight wasn't good, but eventually Speirs made out the form of First Sergeant Lipton seated there by the small side door the company had been using to come and go. He perked up when Speirs approached.

'Sir,' he said, standing.

Speirs waved his hand. 'Oh stop it,' he said peevishly. He didn't need that shit, not right now. Not at this time of night when all he wanted to do was find a nice, warm place to sack out. 'What are you doing out here, anyway? You're aware that the instructions were passed down for _all_ men to get a good rest tonight?'

'I am, sir,' Lipton said with a nod. 'Only it's not been so easy on the men, this break. We've been on the line so long now that it feels – well, it's strange not to have to patrol or be on watch.' He gave an apologetic shrug. 'So I find myself our here to stop some of our more... anxious men from going out and patrolling. I've had to order Joe Liebgott back inside three times already tonight.'

'Ah,' Speirs said. He remembered a similar thing happening on occasion with his platoon in Dog; though not to the extremes Lipton was talking about. It _was_ hard on the men to be put into this kind of situation and not given any kind of come down time.

'Besides,' Lipton continued, 'I didn't want a repeat of what happened back in Holland with Lieutenant Heyliger. We mightn't be on watch here, sir, but there are others who are, and I'm not about to let any of our men go out there and get shot because some antsy replacement private shoots first and asks questions later.'

There was a strange twist in Speirs' belly when Lipton said "our men". Ignoring it, Speirs scrubbed his hand through his hair and then over his face. 'Well, you can't stay out here all night.'

Lipton gave him a faint smile and another shrug. 'Someone's gotta do it, sir.'

Speirs sighed heavily through his nose in annoyance, his lips pulled to a tight line. This wasn't what he wanted for any of his men, and he knew that above all of them, Sergeant Lipton was the one who desperately needed rest. Speirs rubbed at the bridge of his nose a moment. 'Wait here,' he said finally. 'I'm gonna sort this out.' It wasn't like he could go in there, wake everyone up and order them to stay asleep. He might have done some questionable things in his time, but that was just plain silly. And if there was anything Speirs was not, it was _silly_.

So he did the next best thing.

Captain Winters was still at his desk when Speirs arrived back at Battalion HQ. He looked up as Speirs tapped on his door, his eyes widening a little with surprise. 'Didn't expect to see you back here so soon, Ron,' he said. 'Here, take a seat. You reconsider the offer of a real bed?'

Speirs shook his head, taking the seat Winters offered. 'Unfortunately not,' he said. 'Still gonna camp with the men tonight. But I've got a small problem that's a little out of my own hands to deal with.'

'Oh?' Winters said, leaning forward on his elbows, obviously intrigued.

'Yeah, I know,' Speirs said with disgust. 'A problem I can’t deal with already. Not without stepping on any toes anyway, and why would I want to do that myself when I have the Battalion XO ready to do it for me?' He gave Winters a sly look.

Winters snorted a laugh. 'Get me to do your dirty work? All right, hit me with it.'

Speirs leant back in his chair. 'I want someone from one of the other companies on sentry where Easy is billeted. Apparently the men are a little stir crazy and we – First Sergeant Lipton and myself – are concerned that there might be an accident should one of them get it into his head to go patrolling. Lipton's on watch at the moment, but the man is a wreck and deserves a rest before he burns out. I need – rather, I would like to _request_ that you to send someone reliable over to stand watch to send any of the men back inside to prevent any... incidents. Someone you trust.'

The expression on Winters' face darkened a moment and Speirs knew he remembered the accident that Lipton had referred to, with Lieutenant Heyliger and the trigger-happy sentry. 'Of course,' he said briskly. 'I'll see that someone is sent over straight away. I have just the man in mind.'

'Thanks.' Speirs stood and turned for the door. There was little call for ceremony at this time of night.

'Oh, and Ron?'

Speirs paused with his hand on the doorhandle and turned.

'Get some sleep yourself. You look whacked.' Winters smiled.

Speirs laughed. 'You too, Dick,' he said.

Winters made a shooing gesture. 'Go on, get out of here.'

By the time Speirs made it back to the convent he'd been challenged by sentries three times – up on the one time he'd been challenged on the way to Battalion – and he saw Lipton still by the door, but on his feet now talking with another man. They stood with their heads ducked close together in the cold night, their steaming breath mingling, and on approach Speirs recognised the other man as his radio operator, George Luz. A good, dependable young man, with a talent for making his fellow soldiers smile (and while Speirs mightn't look like he had much of a sense of humour, he definitely appreciated the lengths Luz went to). He had a lot of promise, like almost all of the men of Easy Company. Luz was wearing his full kit, helmet askew on his head as he looked at Lipton in glazed confusion. 'C'mon boy,' Lipton said gently, 'let's get you back inside, eh?' He glanced back at Speirs.

'I'll keep an eye on 'em out here,' he promised and Lipton shot him a grateful smile, ushering Luz back inside, with his hand curved gently around the back of Luz's neck. Speirs could hear Luz still protesting weakly as the door shut behind them.

Yawning, Speirs settled down into Lipton's chair. God, last thing he thought he'd need to do tonight was babysit restless soldiers who, even after Bastogne and the Bois Jacques campaign, couldn't relax enough just to sleep one goddamn night through from dusk through dawn.

He had to turn back three men – all anxious because their CO was waiting outside; he was sure they thought he was going to punish them for being late to patrol – in the ten minutes it took until Lipton returned. Where the hell _was_ that sentry Winters promised him?

Speirs sensed Lipton before he heard him, a warm shadow at his back. 'How many?'

'Three.'

'Three?' Lipton sighed as he moved forward to stand by Speirs' side. 'It took me the better part of an hour to get three.'

Speirs grunted. 'Perhaps they knew it was me out here now.'

The look Lipton shot Speirs was definitely amused. 'Sir, I don't think you need to worry about that.'

Speirs gave him a sour look in return. 'What were you saying about the men not caring about the rumours?' Before Lipton had a chance to reply, Winters' sentry strolled up casually out of the darkness. About goddamn time.

'Evening, sir.'

'Thank Christ you're here,' Speirs said, standing. He squinted a little in the darkness. Either the light really was that bad or his eyes were starting to go. He could swear the man looked familiar. 'Did Captain Winters explain what he sent you down here for?'

'Yes, sir. Captain Winters says your boys are a bit restless after being on the line so long and they just need someone to keep watch, make sure they stay home so the rest of you can get some sleep.'

The soldier stepped a little closer and Speirs did recognise him. It was one of the sergeants from Dog Company; not a man from his old platoon, but still one of his favourites, a solid and dependable man who Speirs knew he could rely on. A Toccoa man. More than once Speirs had tried to woo the man across to his platoon for his skills and personable nature.

'Shouldn't you be resting yourself, Sergeant Farnsworth?' Speirs tapped out a cigarette and lit it, before offering the pack to the soldier. 'Dog was with us all the way through, too.'

Farnsworth hesitated for a split second before he reached out and took an offered cigarette. Speirs smiled. 'No sir,' Farnsworth said, 'I've been off the line. Not long after they pulled you off and sent you into Foy with Easy, our patrol ran into an OP. Got a bullet in my arm and another in my side.' He grinned, teeth white in the darkness. 'Didn't hit nothing important so I've been helping out at Battalion 'til I got better enough to get back to the company. Captain Winters asked me to come on down here to give you a hand.'

Speirs offered Farnsworth a light.

Even knowing Farnsworth was here on an order, Speirs still said, 'It's good of you to come on over. You're a good man.'

There was definite abashed pride in Farnsworth's smile at the compliment, and for a moment Speirs wished he was back with Dog, with men like this under his command. He wasn't universally loved even in D Company – or even liked – but there had been a few in his platoon he was fond of and who he knew were genuinely fond of him in return. He didn't come to war to make friends, but it was important in the Airborne to know your men had your back and those men did. Eventually. He'd earned every shred of respect they gave him.

While he was sure in time he'd find the same within his men (_his_ men) in Easy – already he was beginning to suss out who he could trust and who he needed to keep an eye on – it was the acclimatising period that chafed. At least his competence at Foy, and then Noville and Rachamps, had stamped his mark in the men's minds as their CO. Speirs was no Dick Winters, but he was just as committed to his men and their welfare.

'Thank you, sir,' Farnsworth said, fairly glowing.

Speirs slapped Farnsworth on the shoulder. 'Well,' he said brusquely, 'get to it. Come on, Lipton,' and there was a man he'd trusted instinctively, right from the start. 'Let's get you inside and into bed.'

'Sir,' Lipton said with that quiet agreeableness Speirs was becoming quite used to. Yet it was tempered with a hint of distraction, and when Speirs looked at him closer he understood why.

He silently offered Lipton his cigarette.

'Thank you,' Lipton said with polite gusto (and Speirs was almost sure that was as enthusiastic as his First Sergeant ever got about anything. Polite this, polite that. It grated and he had a hankering to push the man past it). Lipton sucked down a drag and his eyes closed, before he let the smoke out on the back of a sigh.

When he offered Speirs the cigarette back, Speirs held up his hand. 'You keep it,' he said. Carwood Lipton had never struck him as the smoking kind. He seemed entirely too good and wholesome for such a habit. He'd heard his First Sergeant didn't take a drink either and approved of that wholeheartedly. Since they'd left the United States there seemed to be entirely too much booze available right across the European Theatre of Operations. It was ridiculous. None of these men could practice moderation.

Lipton shot him a guilty look, 'It's not – I just... well, you know.' He passed the cigarette back, this time not taking Speirs' rejection for an answer. His fingers were ice cold against Speirs', and they shivered slightly.

Speirs gave him a long look as he took that last drag, before crushing the butt out under his toe.

'Come on,' he said, herding Lipton through the door.

'Have a good night, sir!' Farnsworth called softly behind them and Speirs waved one hand dismissively.

By the time Speirs had made Lipton take him on a round of the men – most were sleeping now, some a little restlessly, a few not at all (Chuck Grant – another reliable, trustworthy man – was one of them, sitting against one of the back walls, chain smoking and playing cards, acknowledging Speirs and Lipton with a nod and a tired 'Sir, Sergeant Lipton.') – he was exhausted. It was the kind of bone-weary exhaustion that permeated every inch of his body and threw his natural light-footed grace completely out of alignment.

'Come through this way,' Lipton said, ushering him into a hallway that lead to the back of the convent. 'Your kit is through here, sir.'

When Speirs stumbled a little Lipton made a soft, almost chiding noise – it was true, Speirs thought tiredly, he was like a mother hen to all of them, and the new CO wasn't excused – and slipped in easily under Speirs' arm to steady him.

'Here,' Lipton muttered. 'Let me help you.' He was warm against Speirs' side, but the fingers wrapped around Speirs' wrist were still icy.

Speirs shot him an amused look. 'And if I ordered you not to?'

His mouth quirking into a faint smile, Lipton said, 'Well sir, I do know we're meant to take your orders, but you're damn near out on your feet and it wouldn't do for you to take a fall now, would it? Easy can't afford to lose another CO.'

Ah, Easy. It was always for Easy with this man. 'And what about for the men to see said CO being helped along to his bed by his First Sergeant like he's a decrepit old man?'

This time the smile was bigger. 'I don't think anyone here would – could – call you "decrepit" to be honest, sir. Besides, you're not the first I've helped into bed tonight.'

Propping, Speirs scowled a little. 'You help a lot of men this way?'

'To bed? Of course.' Lipton looked at him with blank incomprehension. _Of course_.

Suddenly Speirs wasn't half as tired as he was only seconds before. With Lipton tucked in under his arm like that it gave him a position of dominance, and he used it to full advantage as he turned them, shoving Lipton up against the wall. His arm was still around Lipton, snug now behind his neck and Lipton leaned back as far as he could get, eyes widened in alarm. 'Sir—!'

They were face to face now, so close Speirs could taste the hint of tobacco on Lipton's breath. Speirs was holding back a little, not pressing bodily up against the other man as he wanted to, ached to, just—he didn't know what he was waiting for, maybe some kind of a sign from Lipton that this wasn't completely unwelcome. Some kind of thawing to _him_ beyond the man's naturally uncanny ability to warm to anyone (he'd even admitted sheepishly that he'd liked Norman Dike, despite all of Dike's glaring inadequacies).

Speirs watched Lipton swallow, his head tipped back against Speirs' arm in a way that bared the line of his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. Speirs slowly, unsubtly wetted his lips and Lipton's gaze fixed on his mouth. It lingered there a moment before it dropped to his collar. Lipton's eyes widened. 'Oh – oh! You've made Captain? Congratulations, sir,' he said warmly, pleasure colouring his tone like Speirs wasn't still right there, bare inches from him. He seemed even more pleased by Speirs' promotion than his own impending commission. 'Did this happen when you took the papers up to Battalion...?' Speirs was definitely impressed. Lipton had nerves of steel under pressure. Maybe this was a test he could unleash on all the men.

'Mmm,' was all Speirs said. He was happy with his promotion of course, but he'd not thought it necessary to fuss over. Winters had kindly offered to present him with his bars in front of the whole company, to make it official, but Speirs knew neither he nor Easy needed that. Now that Lipton knew he would make sure the information was disseminated throughout the company as required without Speirs having to say a thing.

Besides, Speirs knew it would be better this way. Better for Speirs to be the commanding officer they needed, rather than to be seen as another glory-seeker using them to his own advantage. A stepping stone to a better position. He didn't care about that any of that kind of shit, unless him getting a promotion meant he could look after his men better. And then, well, he'd take the promotions as they were given.

Evidently Speirs' lack of visible joy bothered Lipton, because his expression drooped to a frown. 'You're not pleased?'

'Oh, I'm pleased.' Speirs was aware of the light weight of Lipton's hand on his side, almost imperceptible through the heavy weight of his jacket to someone who wasn't looking for it. He knew then that no matter what he did, Lipton wasn't going to push him away. The way Lipton's hand was resting on his side was proof of that; if he'd meant to push Speirs away, the heel of his hand would have been against Speirs' front for leverage instead of curved right around his side, his fingers pressing against Speirs' back, perfect to pull him closer.

Speirs moistened his lips again, and again Lipton's gaze fell on his mouth. 'I just didn't see the need for too much fuss,' he murmured, swaying closer to the other man. Lipton's head tipped back, his eyes slipping closed as his lips parted and Speirs felt the light tug as Lipton's fingers closed on his jacket. 'But I'm definitely pleased,' he said, his lips just brushing against Lipton's.

He didn't press forward no matter how much he wanted to however, he just lingered there. The soft noise Lipton made when Speirs didn't close was pure frustration. 'Please,' Lipton said. He tugged on Speirs' jacket, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush. The heat of Lipton's body was intoxicating and it was all Speirs could do not to close in on him at that instant.

'If you want it...' Speirs murmured.

Lipton wanted it. He made another frustrated noise and leant into Speirs himself, his other hand curving around the back of Speirs' neck. Oh god yes Lipton wanted it, Speirs thought, and it was his turn to groan as Lipton slid his tongue into Speirs' mouth as he arched his body in even closer. He'd thought maybe Lipton would be a shy kisser, virginal even, when it came to kissing another man – kissing _him_ – but there was nothing timid about Lipton's mouth or tongue, or the way he pressed against Speirs.

Speirs wasn't sure how long they stood there in the hallway, pressed together from knee to lips; it felt like an eternity but was probably under a minute before Lipton broke the kiss, breathing heavily. 'We can't,' he said belatedly, as if he hadn't been the one to take that final step. 'We just – we can't.'

'We _can_,' Speirs retorted, nuzzling against Lipton's jaw, the scruff rough against his lips. 'We are.'

'What if one of the men sees us?'

Conceding it was a valid point, Speirs quit his nuzzling. 'That's your concern?' He was happy if that was the only concern Lipton had with this. It took it from "we can't do this because it's wrong" which would have pissed him off no end, because no one told Ron Speirs what was right and what was wrong, to "we can't do this because someone might catch us" which was infinitely better to deal with. There were always ways around that one.

After all, Speirs hadn't gotten this far being clumsy. 'My room – where?'

'N-no room. I thought you might have been staying at Battalion.' Speirs could almost see Lipton's feet growing colder as the seconds ticked over and he swore softly. He wasn't going to have that. He was going to have Carwood Lipton and tonight, that much was true.

Lipton shuffled hesitantly. 'It's not – I put your stuff in with mine,' he said in a rush, 'in a small room – just a cot. I thought – you went to Battalion and I thought... but then you came back and I was going to let you have it—'

'It's good,' Speirs said. 'It's perfect.' With his hand on Lipton's back he ushered him down the hall. He knew they weren't going to inadvertently run into any of the sisters of the covent; after all, they'd all moved out to let the American GIs have a place to sleep, and strangely enough the thought of desecrating the hell out of Lipton in a house of God didn't particularly bother Speirs in the slightest. He and God had just that kind of relationship.

He wasn't so sure it wouldn't bother Lipton though, so he moved quickly. Best not give him a chance to stop and think about this any longer than was needed. 'Where?' Speirs said. 'Which way?'

'This way.'

It wasn't far at least, and as soon as Speirs shut the door behind him he was on Lipton. Turned out he needn't have worried about any potential cold feet Lipton might have had, because of all things Carwood Lipton was feeling right at that moment, cold feet clearly wasn't one of them. He gave as good as he got, gripping the lapels of Speirs' blouse tightly and hauling him close. It was the quiet ones you had to watch, Speirs thought with a gleeful laugh that bubbled up in his throat.

But aggressive Lipton wasn't what Speirs wanted, not tonight. He wanted a Lipton who was needy and pliant and desperate and wanting. What he wanted was what he'd expected to find.

There was a small, wooden chair by the door and Speirs pulled away from Lipton a moment to jam it under the doorhandle. When he turned back he shoved Lipton onto the cot, the frame creaking a moment when he clambered on top. Lipton tried to reach for him again but Speirs would have none of it, gripping Lipton's wrists tightly and hauling them above Lipton's head to pin against the mattress. Lipton's eyes widened as Speirs growled, 'Stay,' like he was speaking to a recalcitrant child, a wayward private. Speirs sensed Lipton's intention a fraction of a second before he tried to move and squeezed his wrists tight enough that a flash of pain appeared in Lipton's eyes and he let out a soft noise.

Speirs released him immediately and paused for a heartbeat. Lipton's only move was to wet his lips. 'Sir...?'

'You need to lose these,' Speirs said, tugging at Lipton's trousers until he'd worked them down around the man's knees. Lipton obligingly raised his hips, seemingly unembarrassed by this semi-nakedness and his state of arousal. Speirs wriggled his own trousers down and then was back over Lipton, hot skin on hot skin. Lipton groaned appreciatively. 'You like that?' Speirs purred.

'You bet, sir,' Lipton said breathlessly. There was definitely something in the way Lipton said "sir", something different to the way he would normally say it that hit Speirs right where he lived. It was a purr, a promise, a demand. Something hot and needy and willing and calculating at the same time. Speirs loved it.

With one hand to steady himself gripping Lipton's hip, the other curved around Lipton's neck (his thumb pushing up against Lipton's jaw to force his head up and back, Speirs nipping at the skin behind Lipton's ear) he moved, rocking his hips slowly. 'Jesus, sir,' Lipton said, like he didn't know exactly what it did to Speirs. Maybe he didn't, Speirs wouldn't put that kind of ignorance past him; his clever, quiet Carwood Lipton who'd had no real idea what he meant to the men, and how much they needed him. How much his Captain needed him.

Growling, Speirs shifted, bracing himself on the mattress as he thrust against Lipton, harder and faster, dipping his head to kiss and mouth at his neck, his throat, his jaw, to kiss him hard and deep, to bite at his lower lip (gently, gently; part of Speirs was always aware of the permissible boundaries; it wouldn't do for Easy's First Sergeant to look debauched come morning and a bite mark would stand out like a sign post). Lipton's hands settled on his hips, urging him on with tightly gripping fingers and desperate gasps that sent sparks down Speirs' spine.

Speirs came first; quickly, silently, hot and wet between them, his hips jerking against Lipton, one of Lipton's hands tangled in his hair, the other gripping the wooden bed head tightly. His only noise was the long exhalation of his held breath, a soft "oh" of release pressed in against Lipton's neck.

Speirs eased off to the side and was aware that Lipton was looking at him with wide, stunned eyes, like he'd never seen him before. Holding his gaze, Speirs touched some of his release on Lipton's skin and then licked his fingers. Lipton's eyes flicked away when Speirs tasted himself, the colour across his cheekbones deepening.

Awkwardly tugging up his pants enough that he could move, Speirs slithered down the slight length of Lipton's frame. Oh, he could make Lipton blush all right. There was nothing he could do with his hands that he couldn't do better with his mouth; the spoils of misspent youth and Speirs was gonna blow his First Sergeant's goddamn mind.

Lipton voice went up an octave as he whimpered, 'Oh god.'

It didn't take much work to bring Lipton to the edge and the last few strokes Speirs gave him by hand, holding him close as he shook and came apart.

They lay there for a few long moments, wedged close together on the cot. Speirs could feel his eyelids drifting closed as exhaustion, temporarily pushed aside in favour of getting in Lipton's trousers, reared its head once more. They couldn't stay like this; the chair jammed under the doorhandle meant no well meaning private would bust in, but Speirs wasn't much of a cuddler and besides, the cot was really fucking narrow. It would go from post-sex comfortable to too many elbows and knees shortly.

'Uh. Captain Speirs, sir—' Lipton started hesitantly, once again the quiet, unassuming man Speirs had been expecting right from the start.

'You'd better take the floor,' Speirs interrupted, his voice harsh and loud in the silence. It sounded almost like a dismissal – we're done now, I'm finished with you, off you go – so he cleared his throat and said in a slightly more moderated tone, 'You take the blanket if you want, I'm not gonna need it.'

'But sir, you'll freeze—'

Speirs half sat up, twisting around to look at Lipton as he pulled up his trousers. He shot Lipton his best freshly-fucked smile, only two points short of a leer. 'No, I won't.' He held out the blanket. 'Take the goddamn blanket, Sergeant Lipton. I promise I won't need it, not now.' He let his gaze meander obviously up and down Lipton's body.

Lipton blinked and in the lamplight Speirs could see his face redden. It was ridiculous to think he could make Carwood Lipton blush with only a look after what they'd just done. 'Uh.' Lipton said. 'Well... very good, sir.' He took the blanket Speirs offered, shaking it out and setting up his bed on the floor.

When Speirs woke the next morning (relaxed and refreshed and clear of mind), Lipton was already gone, but the blanket was draped over him, carefully tucked in around his shoulders.


End file.
